Eugene's Old Grey Mule

Mostly he just stood there Next to the fence Looking at what, We knew not Eyes were closed As he dosed.

Sometimes he shifted His weight from three legs To another three Putting a hind leg in place Of the one he raised And maybe his head Was too much to bear So it hung down In apparent despair.

But the Old Grey Mule Was a testament To times gone past When farming was for Survival to the last. When the rows of Of cotton or corn seemed endless As the Old Grey Mule Pulled the buster Down the middle.

With progress If you can call it that Eugene had a tractor And equipment to match. He had no need For the Old Grey Mule Who had no place In the modern world Of a fast pace.

But Eugene kept him As a reminder of times Long ago When feeding the family Seemed so Difficult as there were Many mouths to feed Not just the ones of His own family breed.

But neighbors also, When the times were rough All hoed the row, freeing the Crops of weeds; mighty tough. And when layby time finally came There was a pause in the routine That to all seemed the same.

And the Old Grey Mule Could stand alone by the gate Hoping for a nubbing Or something else to eat.

Whether he sensed That in the Fall He'd not get Eugene's call Was known only To him who stood In the shade waiting.

As others returned To the fields To save the crops After the corn ears drooped And the cotton bolls popped.

Time was when Back in the field To pull the wagon With faithful companion Of many an eon (She'd gone the way That all critters do And her bones lay In the gully scattered ado.)

But now the rumble of the tractors With diesel smoke aplenty Easily did the job That once required many The wagons filled With fluffy cotton Captured from hanging open burrs And no one seemed to understand What a blessing harvest is Saving the crop From waste and distress.

So the Old Grey Mule stood Never blinking an eye As storm clouds Gathered in the evening sky And in the morning When the terror had past The Old Grey Mule Was found lying There in the grass Having given a final sigh As he passed away With nothing to comment on Or to say.

But Eugene knows that surely As the Old Grey Mule died The same fate is due us all Who pass this way.

And the Old Grey Mule is a reminder That life's for the living - time to consider. Take time to stand and gaze into the near pasture For soon it will be home For the bones of another.